Max Payne: Pain and Suffering
by FerretFelix
Summary: The final chapter of Max Payne. But things are different this time...This is a rewrite of the final chapter of the original Max Payne. Please Read and Review.


**MAX PAYNE: PAIN AND SUFFERING**

Max stood at the foot of the Aseir Corporation headquarters. The two Berettas felt heavy in his hands, glued to his palms with the bitter cold of the storm. He looked up at the aerial on top of the building. The structure was so tall it seemed to bend back and forth worryingly. Although he knew it was a simple illusion, the strength of the wind made the idea seem feasible. The streets were understandable empty, coated with snow centimetres deep. He stepped forward, he shoe crunching on the scattered remains of grit. It had clearly been laid down a month or two ago. He headed on toward the building. He went to open the door to find it to slide automatically aside, inviting him into the lair of the beast.

He stepped in to be met by gates with metal detection lasers, beaming threateningly. This could only go violently. He dashed through the gates, weapons poised directly ahead at 2 double doors. Alarm bells rang around his head, piercing his ears and working through to his brain. Upstairs, the head of Aesir arose from a large recliner, flanked by two guards. She pursed her cold lips solemnly. 'Payne…'

Men poured through the two doors, handguns, shotguns and assault rifles all ablaze, sending thick hails of metal through the intruded lobby in the general direction of the one in the leather coat. Time seemed to crawl near to a stop as he dived forwards, his fingers hammering the triggers on the two pistols. He hit the floor and skidded, skilfully weaving his figure around the bullets. His guns began to click incessantly. Max was constantly making split second decisions, like the one to discard his empty weapons to save valuable time that would otherwise be spent reloading them. The Berettas skidded across the polished floor to either side of him as he removed two Ingrams from his Jacket. He leapt to his feet and rolled backwards, his new choice of weapons bleeding a stream of lead into the guards. He back flipped to dodge a fresh batch of shotgun bullets that were rocketing towards him. He tossed one of the guns up into the air and caught it in his teeth. He once again reached into his jacket and removed a fragmentation grenade. He intentionally snagged the pin on his sleeve and jerked it forwards. Curse words rang through the room as Max flung it from his hand into the open before jumping backwards through the gates again. It was as if time stopped completely as the grenade triggered, the brilliant light that radiated from the explosion reflecting in the polished floor and windows, allowing Max to assess the danger he was in. He spied a large piece of shrapnel flying through the air towards him. He crouched, replacing the Ingram in his hand. The hunk of metal in question shattered the window behind him, splaying shards out into the street. Over the road, blinds raised and windows lit up as fearful citizens optically inquired the noise.

The room became silent. Max stood and observed the carnage. Chipped walls, a scorched floor and a pile of corpses bathed in their own blood. He forced a new clip into each Ingram before walking through the door. This ended here.

The next room was empty. The wall was lined with lifts, red lights teasing at him, screaming out to him that they were offline. If only it could be that easy… As he plotted the best route up, one of the tiles behind him chipped and shattered, sending shards of ceramic up into the air. Max instinctively ducked and rolled, seeking out the origin of the projectile. He looked up to see a sniper poised on a balcony. Max raised an Ingram and unleashed a hail of bullets directly at the assassin. Before the sharpshooter could fire another bullet, a hole was torn in his shoulder, closely followed by one in his head. He headed onward to the door. It was locked. Max looked around. Time to get creative. He ran to a pillar, replacing his dual Ingrams with a Desert Eagle. He fired at it. The bullet carved a small hole into the vertical beam. He repeated this 3 times upwards of this and began to climb, placing his hands and feet in the gaps. He reached the last notch and gripped the railing on the balcony, hoisting up onto it. He could hear a man talking on the other side of the door. He was conversing a battle plan with a fellow guard; 'Ok, when Payne comes through that door, WHAM 'IM!' Max raised an eyebrow. The men were _clearly_ of great intelligence, what with speaking so loudly and all. He slipped the D'Eagle back into the holster on his leg and armed himself with a Pump-Action Shotgun.

He kicked the door open, gun raised, and put a hole in the waiting man's face. The other began to blast at him with a Colt Commando, splintering Max's leg, making him cringe uncontrollably. He wasn't letting it happen again. He blasted his boom-stick directly at the man's chest, knocking him out of a window and the other side of the room. Max knew the man had been wearing Kevlar body armour, but if the shock didn't kill him, the fall would. Max was losing a dangerously large amount of blood. He reached into the jacket and pulled out a small orange tub. He flipped the lid with his thumb and tipped out two pills. He tossed them up and caught them on his tongue. 'Still got the charm.' He sniggered to himself. It was cheesy, but it kept him sane. He walked across the room to the window, dreaming up the cleeshay he'd use next. He peered out of the hole in the sheet of glass.. The remains of the fool lay splattered on the near street. He was dead alright. There was a counter to Max's left. He ran over and jumped over it. There was a slutty picture of a stripper on the desktop, splayed out on a bed in the nude. He scanned the computer for access to the mainframe. He found it. Password protected. This would be easy. He began to type; Valkyr. He hit return. 'DENIED'. Valhalla. 'GRANTED'. Not too smart on their part. A list came up onto the screen. He scrolled down. 'Cameras: OFF. Lift access: ON.' He tweaked the server to his needs and desires before heading back and jumping over the balcony in the previous room. He pressed the lift button. He waited, rapidly hammering at the button in a pathetic attempt to speed the lifts arrival. Typical American.

The lift arrived with a 'BING' sound. Max had his gun raised to the metal doors, expecting bad company. The doors slid aside. Empty. Good. He stepped in. The bitch was going down.

The lift began its long ascent, creaking as it went. He heard a voice. 'Surprise, asshole!' A thug dropped down with a shotgun, unleashing fury at Max, who ducked and fired, hitting him in the head. 'Nice line. I'll have to use it sometime.' He shut up when he realised he was talking to a corpse. The lift continued to creak, worryingly louder now. He peeked his head out of the hole from which the man had come. The cord was frayed, damaged by a gunshot. The lift was hanging on by a thread. Literally. Max looked out of the glass wall at the side of the building. Over half way. This could only end badly. The cord gave one final groan before snapping, sending time to a standstill. Max grabbed the snapped cord with one had, his shotgun firmly in the other. The lift pulled the parallel end of the cord down, sending his end flying up uncontrollably fast. He looked down at the impending wreck as it dropped into freefall. The g-force pulled the dead body of the assault man out of the top. It twirled and fell, making Max's stomach churn.

After a few minutes, the top of the shaft began to rear towards Max's head. The building shook as the lift hit rock bottom far below. The cords stopped flying, sending a searing pain through Max's arm. He knew there'd be people waiting for him on the other side of the door that he was now face to face with. If only he'd been this popular in high school. He stepped onto the ledge and forced open the door, his shotgun raised.

He was met on the other side by three men in a line. He fired the pump-action, knocking all of them back. 'Bing' he said, a grin on his face. He walked through. He heard a man breathing heavily on the other side, waiting for him. The poor guy knew he was toast. Just not as literally as he would have thought. Max spied a vent. He climbed in, heading past the door. It was fenced off at the other side, leaving access only to the room adjacent to the one he had just left. He peered out. The man was there, waiting with a Colt Commando, facing the door. His hands were shaking. He almost felt too sympathetic to kill him. But not enough. Max pulled out a Molotov Cocktail. Family's special recipe. 'Surprise, asshole.' He threw it, making a flaming wreck of the man. NOW he was toast. He'd used the quote. And soon after hearing it too. He was proud of himself.

Max walked to the next door. It was flanked by large windows, apparently empty. It was the big shot bitch's office. But Max didn't enter. Just because you can't see them, doesn't mean they're not there. He'd learnt that the hard way back in the lift. He pulled out his shiny M79. This would be fun.

He fired off 3 RPGs through the windows, obliterating the room and all of its contents. He saw several bodies fly through the air. So mean yet so satisfying. He felt cold metal against the back of his head. He daren't look back. 'Hello Max.'

'Hey Mona.' She took the gun from his head. Max turned around to meet her face. 'Sorry about last time. I couldn't let you screw this up. Looks like we're after the same thing. Let's wham this bitch.' They headed to the staircase that led to the roof. This ended here.

They ran up, reaching the top. Max kicked the door open, blowing the bar on the other side. There was a helicopter hovering above them. The Aesir head sat in the vehicle as it floated off. Only one thing could be done. He pulled out an M79 and fired it at the helicopter. The explosion was vast. The copter spiralled round and over the side of the building. 20 of the men in blue ran at him, guns raised. Max Payne, you have been convicted countless killings, including the murders of Michelle Payne, Harry Payne, drug possession and dealing and arson! Drop your weapons and lie on the floor!'

Max sat back at the station. None of the charges were accurate. He sat handcuffed to a chair, Deputy Chief Jim Bravvuera smoking a cigar, sitting on the opposite side of a desk. 'It was all set up. Every little detail. V doesn't exist. It was all ploy to lure you into our trap. You're a murderer. For god's sake, you killed your family!' Max knew the man was wrong. Then it came back to him. He stood by the bed with his shotgun and shot Michelle. Then he walked in to find the murderer. So he shot him square in the chest. He'd been shot with a shotgun, so he knocked back some painkillers and took the tub. He went to find Alex. But Alex knew what he'd done. So he shot him. And found himself stuck because Alex was dead. So he set out to kill the man who had killed him. He WAS a murderer. He DID kill his family. And he WOULD kill the man who killed them all. He broke the chair and kicked Jim, knocking him out. It was all too easy. He took the key and undid the handcuffs. It felt disturbingly odd that they were alone. He took Jim's gun and held it to the murderer's head. All of a sudden, the cardboard walls fell down and he found himself on a stage facing a cheesy game show host and a massive crowd. 'You've been Duped!' You've just been the star of America's number one hidden camera show Duped! How do you feel?' Max found himself with two Ingrams in his hands. 'I've felt better.' He shot them all. All the camera men. All the crowd. The host. Everyone was dead. Everyone except the one who counted. He put the gun to the murderer's neck. It felt cold on Max's skin. He fired at the criminal. There was no pain. He just fell to the floor. Then he fell through the floor, and landed in utter blackness. A cinema sized screen lay directly ahead of him. It was blank except for one message. 'Congratulations! You have successfully completed Max Payne. You have unlocked the following game modes:

New York Minute

Dead on Arrival

Then he woke up. He was lying on the floor in the mansion that once housed the trio. The needle lay beside him. He hadn't woken up at all. He was in a world of V. The world was still a bad place. The case had not been put to rest. It had all been make believe. The drug had only now worn off. There was a pool of vomit where his head had been. 'I give in.' He said. He picked up a candelabrum from the desk and stabbed himself. He fell to the floor in slow motion, the camera rotating around him hypnotically. More writing: 'You have been killed. Press Enter to continue.' He woke up in a pool of his own vomit in the mansion. Everything was green again. 'It's not worth trying.' He injected himself again and everything split into two. There were two Maxes. Two desks. He did it again. Four of everything. He kept doing it until the screen blew up in his face. He let go of the mouse. 'What the hell?' He woke up in a pool of his own vomit in the mansion. Everything was green again. Max saw that his baby son was in the room with him. Colour returned. The baby started walking towards him with his arms out, as if to ask for a hug. Max tried to hug him, only to find himself chained to the wall by all but one of his limbs. The door broke down and a skin-head addict ran in with a shotgun, aiming it directly at the baby, who began to cry. He could hear rock-a-by baby playing on a child's music box in the background. The walls began to close in, the familiar cloud pattern seeming an evil and daunting thing. Max could almost reach his gun. It was just a little out of reach, taunting him, winding him up with cruel intentions. Max looked up. The gun fired once, but the sound repeated in his head. His son became instantly unrecognisable. Blood covered the walls of the room, staining the clouds a nightmare shade of red. His baby's cries were deafening now, and the corpse stood up. The walls drew further in. Everything began to shake. The man fired again, this time knocking the un-dead infant against the wall. More blood shot everywhere. Max could feel it on his face. He reached for the gun again, only to discover that his child was coldly staring him in the face, seemingly praying to him to save him; to do something to stop it. But nothing came of it. He remained locked against the wall. Another shot. It was all too much. Max closed his eyes and re-opened them. Now he was in his own bedroom. He had a shotgun poised in his hands. 'Max, please, no! I didn't mean to! Please!' He couldn't do anything. He was possessed. He fired. He ran into the room to find the assassin standing there, and his wife already dead on the bed. Another Max flew in through the window. Then the roof caved in and another fell through. They all began shooting each other.

He woke up in a pool of his own vomit in the mansion. Everything was green again…

**END?...**


End file.
